A Barn Rescued and Reborn

A ramshackle property becomes an idyllic weekend retreat

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The first time Michel Botbol saw his 110-year-old barn/house, it looked, he says, "like Harry Potter meets Miss Havisham." Translation: It had been barely maintained for a decade and was in total, if delightful, disarray. He decided to buy it that day. "If it weren't irresistible, it would have been a crazy purchase," he adds.

The five-acre spread, which sits on the edge of Marjorie Merriweather Post's former estate in Brookhaven Hamlet, on Long Island, was first written about in a charming (if not politically correct) article in a 1912 issue of American Homes and Gardens touting how great it is to live in a barn, where you don't have to put up with pesky servant problems.

What that piece didn't spell out were some of the other details of inhabiting a structure originally meant for horses, potatoes, and tractors. Botbol's was dark, there was not much heat to speak of, definitely no air-conditioning, and no basement whatsoever. Still, the house and its outbuildings—two small cottages that flank the pool and a cabin on a far corner of the property—had charm and history. The barn had been moved in the 1860s from a nearby farm, and then, around 1910, the crisscross windows, salvaged from an old church, were added. The whole place was an elegant hodgepodge.

Though neglected and forlorn, it was well known in the surrounding towns, which have more than their share of stylish weekenders from Manhattan. And the property clearly holds appeal for those with a heightened visual sensibility. Botbol, who oversees the women's collections at Polo Ralph Lauren, was intrigued when the real-estate agent informed him that the house had once been owned by photographer Bruce Weber, who has created many of the designer's iconic advertising images.

When Botbol and his partner, Arthur Krystofiak, an entrepreneur in hospitality and real estate, began looking for an architect to help them renovate, most were interested only in "restoration and preservation," Botbol says. "We needed it to be more functional, with places you could go and read and be comfortable." So they turned to Calvert Wright, who had already designed Botbol's Manhattan apartment.

"He totally got the place," Krystofiak says, "and came up with the idea for a kind of neo-Gothic barn with a modernist twist."

Says Wright, "We wanted to treat everything that was there originally with total respect—and then make the clashes artful."

"Our objective was to save the magic," Botbol adds. "It was a herculean task. First we had to lift the structure 10 to 12 feet, keeping the fireplaces and chimney intact. Then we scooped out a basement to hold the heating, power, and air-conditioning systems." They replaced the disintegrating walls in what is now the dining area with doors salvaged from an old ship, added vertical windows and skylights to the main room, and built a glassed-in family room off the kitchen.

Today the front doors open to a sunny 1,500-square-foot space, with a hayloft that is used as a den on one side. Botbol wanted to establish strong seating areas that wouldn't get lost within this vastness. One, called the Salon d'Intrigue, contains a comfortable club chair, a cowhide layered over a rug, and casually displayed artworks, including an Andres Serrano flag on the floor. "We also needed to put in a staircase," explains Botbol, "and Calvert felt strongly that we should either go with a found object, or if we couldn't, not try to fake up something that looked old." When their search proved fruitless, the architect designed a sculptural modern version, and its juxtaposition against the salvaged wood is one of the house's most artful clashes.

The couple's frequent entertaining called for an up-to-date kitchen—but even here the barn aesthetic remains. Exposed beams contrast with gleaming white walls, and in the breakfast area, mismatched wood panels and original doors pay homage to the structure's past. The new banquette ("not the architect's favorite idea," Botbol admits) provides both extra seating and storage. Above the kitchen, the blue-and-white bedroom and bath are as tiny and tight as ship cabins.

The hayloft/den contains an easygoing, nearly Gertrude Stein–abundant collection of artworks and books. Pieces by Steven Meisel and Hugo Guinness sit alongside paintings acquired at auction and an assortment of family photos. A ladder beckons to a steel walkway in the sky, which connects to an old water tower charmingly entangled in wisteria.

The walkway's main function is to offer views of the gardens and the rebuilt pool and its two sheds—one serves as a poolhouse, the other as a guesthouse, with a twig four-poster. From the ceiling beams hang actual beehives, which serve as lampshades. It's the kind of rustic yet chic touch the owners excel at. Though, as with living in a barn, a few adjustments were necessary. "You need to put something under them at first," says Botbol of the hives, "because wax drips out for a while."